


Family History

by DarkAlpha67



Category: Captain America (Movies), Teen Wolf (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Artist Steve Rogers, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Coming Out, Explicit Language, Family Feels, First half, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Meeting, Meeting the Family, Mention of Rebecca Barnes, Mild Language, Minor Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, OC, POV Steve Rogers, POV Stiles Stilinski, Post-Canon, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Stiles is related to Bucky, Tony Stark Makes An Appearance, legacy, second half
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 11:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19745110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAlpha67/pseuds/DarkAlpha67
Summary: Steve meets a young man who thanks him for what did: coming out to the world. Not knowing the man is Stiles Stilinski, the great-grandson of one James Buchanan Barnes.&Stiles travels to New York to meet and thank Steve Rogers, his last connection to his mom's grandfather.





	Family History

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this after inspiration struck. At first it was supposed to be a OC thanking Steve for coming out. Then, I thought, well why not make it Stiles because I've loved Teenwolf and anything crossovers, and then it kinda spiraled from there.
> 
> I hope you like it <3.
> 
> Don't forget to Spread Love and Not Hate.

Being back was hard. Exactly two years had passed since he’d been thawed from the ice, dying in one world only to be thrusted into another. A lot had changed, obviously, but few things remained the same. Brooklyn was busier than he remembered, and New York was brimming with the amount of people all prancing around, individualistic goals their main focus, eyes often down, fixed on their phones, mouths always yammering, either into their phones, to the people who were accompanying them or just to the general public.

Being back was hard, being back and out about his sexuality was harder. Back then, your business was your business and you guarded it your life, in their case their lives would have been on the line if word got out.

Steve remembered living in constant fear of being too obvious, of being too this or not enough of that. He conformed to what he knew ‘men’ were supposed to be like to a degree, learned from Bucky and his Ma on how to be a gentleman and not a piece of shit.

In the 21st century, Steve still found himself conforming to some stereotypes, mostly because it was easier than being himself: people had expectations; and acting accordingly was easier than living with the fear of being rejected.

He could be Captain America.

He could be the guy from the past.

He could be the war hero.

He could be a leader.

It took working with the Avengers, it took fighting alongside them and learning to care for these new people who were now his team, for Steve to realize being _Steve Rogers_ was enough.

“And fuck anyone who doesn’t like him,” Tony had so eloquently interjected.

Being with the Avengers had given Steve the courage to come out.

Natasha had been the first people he’d opened up to. She knew about secrets and the toll, however invisible, it took on those harboring it. She sat patiently on his couch, silent as Steve worked out how to word his confession, ultimately settling for: _I like dames, but I kinda like fella’s too, or a fella, but we, I don’t, not any more – but that don’t mean I don’t still like them, both, equally._

She didn’t laugh at him nor did she jerk away from him in disgust. Instead she smiled and nodded, saying, “Thanks for trusting me with this, Steve.”

That was the first time she said his name without the underlying teasing tone.

The other Avengers found out on their own, Steve dropping random comments here and there about his _preference_ , as Bruce had framed it. The only time he was caught off guard was when Clint, upon hearing Steve comment on another man’s level of attraction, chimed in with a:

“Yeah, I’d do him too.” When he caught Steve’s wide-eyed gaze, he lifted a challenging eyebrow. “What? Like you wouldn’t?”

It was nice, the 21st Century. The people (not all people, mind you) were more accepting of things, from religion, to individual style, to music and opinions and so much more. He’d been overwhelmed and had locked himself in his floor for three days when he’d found out just how acceptable everything was.

He just wished someone else could be here to see it too, with him.

Just as a wave of melancholy washed over him, Sam’s voice in the cusps of drifting through, a waiter came over to fill his cup with some more coffee. “Can I get you anything, Steve?”

 _Steve…_ His favorite diner was owned by a family Steve cared for deeply, the O’Malley’s. Steve used to play with their waiter’s grandmother back in the day. Sue was still very much alive and popped in every now and then when Melissa, the waiter smiling down at him with her grandma’s blue eyes and dusty blonde hair, called to inform her that Steve had dropped by.

The place felt like a connection to his past, a last monument which contained memories of a time now passed. Melissa and everyone related to the O’Malley’s, by blood or bond, called him Steve. It felt nice.

“No thank you, Melissa.” He responded politely.

She nodded. “Well, you let me know. I got $20 on you ordering another apple pie.” She joked.

“ _Damn_. One time. I was try’na be supportive.”

“Grandma still wants to know if you ate it all?”

“Why? So, she can mock me some more?”

“Of course.” Melissa gave a look that mirrored Sam’s “well, duh”. She shot him a wink and exited it with a “you, enjoy.”

With a smile etched on his face, Steve turned his attention back to his drawing which he’d neglected for thoughts that were best left alone. He’s been in the process of smoothing out the curve of Nat’s nose when he felt a presence enter his personal bubble. Hand stilling, palm covering, Steve lifted his head to see a tall, young man standing by his table. His eyes, which reminded Steve of honey, were fixed on Steve, the kid’s posture appearing relaxed and non-threatening. He had a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, in one hand a to-go cup of coffee, while his other gripped the strap of his bag.

“Can I help you?” He bit down before he could say ‘kid’.

And he was, a kid. He looked to be in his early twenties what with his tight – no skinny jeans and graphic shirt under a red and black flannel shirt. Was this what Natasha meant that his style had character? Was she expecting him add his shirts and t-shirts together? Because that seemed like a waste of clean clothes.

“No, I just…” The kid sighed, his knuckles turning white as he straightened his spine. “I saw you sitting here and, I just wanted to thank you for what you did, for speaking up.”

Steve frowned at him, his eyebrows pinching together in confusion.

“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” The kid’s face scrunched up and Steve’s heart pinched at the oddly familiar expression. “Fuck, I should I have rehearsed this more. So, like before you freak out or call your friends with the deadly skills, I promise I am not a crazy fan or a stalker fan or any other _dangerous_ fan, I am just a kid walking up to a superhero to tell him that I am thankful for what he did when said superhero came out and told the world he was bisexual.” A loud whoosh of air left the kid.

The corner of Steve’s lips tugged up, the rest of his mouth catching up a second later. “Thanks, kid. That means a lot.”

A mole dotted cheek pinched together as a lopsided smile appeared. “Yeah, same…” He trailed off then, his eyes dropping as if his mind took him someplace else. Never one to intrude or disturb someone, Steve sat there, waiting patiently when the kid fell silent.

Then, honey-brown eyes looked up and the kid grinned once again. “Anyway, I just wanted to thank you. Tell you how much it meant to me that you did that, especially given…”

That caught Steve’s attention. A protective streak flashed through him. “Hey, kid, you okay?”

Eyebrows jumped up. “Who? Me? Yeah.”

Steve ran his eyes over the kid, his mind still latched on to the clear despondent tone in the kid’s voice when he trailed off. “You sure?” He asked, being as vague and ambiguous as possible.

It wasn’t his business, really, and Steve understood that though everyone was interested in everyone’s business, privacy was still respected. He wanted to help, sure, but he was still a little unsure about what was acceptable behaviour. Though, he did it well, and adjusted to the century better than anyone expected, he still found himself reverting to ‘old habits’, habits that were now frowned upon.

The kid cleared his throat, drawing Steve back to the present. The kid nodded his head firmly and Steve gave him his best ‘I believe you’ smile.

“Yeah, I’m great. It was nice meeting you.” A hand shot but fingers curled in a moment later, “shit, can I do that? Am I—”

Steve wrapped his own hand around the kid’s, surprised to feel the strength in his grip as they shook hands. The kid kept looking at him, and Steve knew he had more to say. Waiting, he slowly exactly his hand, wondering if the conversation was in fact done. His got his answer when the kid took a step away, grin lopsided.

“It was nice finally meeting you.” The kid nodded, his eyes, which were really expressive, softening into something resembling sadness. “Have a great day.”

And then he turned. He was a just a few steps away, when a little light went off in Steve’s head. “Hey, wait, kid.”

The kid stopped, turned and looked over his shoulder, eyebrows lifted in question.

“What’s your name?”

The kid paused, bottom lip moving as he trapped it between his teeth. It was a nervous habit, something Bucky used to do when his confidence was lacking. The sight of the act struck Steve, but he forced himself to remain calm and appear casual.

After a moment’s hesitation the kid answered. “My name is Stiles.”

And then he was gone, the diner doorbell chiming he opened it, head ducked down as he made a right and walked away. A part of Steve actually wanted to go after him, find out more about this kind who appeared so genuine. He wouldn’t do that, of course, so instead he shifted in his chair, eyes following after the kid until he vanished from sight.

Sighing, he looked down at his drawing of Nat. Before he knew it, he was on a new, clean page, sketching the beginning of the outline of the kid’s features. Something within him knew this day was important, knew the kid was someone important top. So, not wanting to forget him, Steve’s hand did want his mind wanted.

He drew the kid- _Stiles_ , focusing on the kid’s eyes and mouth. He took care with how he drew the kid’s hair…

*

A good distance away, Stiles exhaled shakily, the cup in his hand trembling. His heart raced on within his chest, but Stiles stumbled on, eyes scanning the area until he found it. The sight of the sleek black car caused the weight pressing down on his chest to fade.

Hurrying, Stiles speed-walked to the car, opening it and falling with. The car door closed and silently enveloped him. The cup in his hand was taken away and Stiles leaned his head back against the seat’s headrest, breathing in as he tried to get his heart under control. He focused on the minty scent which wafted off Derek, the citrus smell from that stupid car air-fresher Scott had gifted to Stiles with a pleading “take it, make the sex smell go away, please”.

Fingers pressed against his palm, forcing Stiles’ fist open. Their fingers laced together. Stiles inhaled. “Did you hear?”

“Not really.” Derek replied. “New York is loud, Stiles.”

Stiles nodded, swallowing down the lump which suddenly formed in his throat. “Well, I thanked him, like I rehearsed, except I completely fucked it up and went on this rant about me not being a stalker or a fanatic. It was a mess. I just said my piece and tried to get out of there as fast as I could.”

Derek gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Well, you thanked him, Stiles.”

“Yeah… I even got to shake his hand and everything. Probably freaked him out, though. He seemed genuine but I have seen the guy smile as he corrected a conservative on his bullshit views. And he even said ‘bullshit’, Der, while smiling like he was happy to see the asshole.” Stiles winced, recalling how angry he’d been when he’d watched that particular interview.

Derek hummed and silence fell over them for a short while. Opening his eyes, Stiles looked out ahead of him, watching the hundred of thousands of people mill about, yelling and talking and living their best life. He saw a homeless guy walking down the street and found himself out of the car a moment later, heading over.

“Hey, man.” He called out. The homeless guy kept on walking, used to be being ignored and assuming no one was referring to him. “Hey.” He sidestepped, putting himself in the guy’s line of sight.

The guy, with face covered in dirt and eyes crusted with sleep, froze and stared at Stiles with wide terrified and defensive eyes.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He reached into his messenger bag, fingers sinking into something squishy which he pulled out. “Uh, I got a sandwich, if you want.”

“You what?” The guy asked, face tightening as he stared at Stiles like he was crazy. Wow, he was everyone’s ‘crazy guy’ today.

“A sandwich. Food. It’s got cheese, ham and tomatoes on it, so if you’re allergic—”

“No, I’m not.” The man hurriedly interjecting, taking the offered sandwich with hesitant hands. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Here.” Stiles took out a twenty and handed it over. “For later.”

“Fuck, kid. Thanks.” Came the emotional response.

Stiles nodded, smiling warmly. “Take care.” He gave a gentle nod in farewell, before turning back and heading over to Derek’s car, looking over his shoulder once more to wave at the guy. As he slid in, he met Derek’s kaleidoscope eyes (He decided on that when he and Derek first got to together and found he couldn’t really wax poetry about Derek’s eyes, because they tend to change color based on the weather or their surrounding).

“What?”

Instead of replying, Derek leaned over and pressed his lips against Stiles’, the kiss, sweet and loving. His lips moved to return the kiss, spreading into a smile as he did so. The kiss was short, but it took any lingering anxiety away.

“You’re amazing. I don’t tell you that often.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “And you’re a sappywolf, I wish you could have told me _that_ sooner.”

“Why? So, you can bow out of this relationship gracefully?”

“No, it’s so I don’t have a heart-melt every time you open your mouth. High school Derek is still the Derek I was introduced to, you know.”

“I wasn’t in high school back then.”

“In my dreams you were.” Stiles smirked. “Oh, in so, _so_ many dreams.”

Derek indulged the small distraction, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, muttering something about ‘why do I love you’. The smile on Stiles’ lips slowly faded and the discontent resurfaces. He reached out, lacing his fingers through Derek’s, lifting their hands so that it rested on his thigh.

“Did you want to tell him the truth?” Derek voiced.

“How could I have told him? The guy came back from being frozen for 70 years. He doesn’t need this crap making his life more—”

“It’s not crap, Stiles. You’re connected to him.”

“No, I’m not. I’m just the great grandson of his dead best friend. I have no connection to him at all, so there is no need for me to be or feel connected to him.”

“History books say the Barnes considered Steve Roger’s their family. And he felt the same way. That makes him your family, Stiles.”

“No, it just makes me another reminder of the friend he lost in the War. I can’t – “ Stiles’ voice broke, shaking his head. “I just wanted to thank him. And I did.”

Stiles pressed his lips together, his heart clenching as he recalled why he’d traveled from Washington to New York, why he’d used his detective skills and Derek’s werewolf-y senses to track Steve Rogers down. It was to thank the man for proving to Stiles that he was not a disgrace to his family’s legacy. That loving something that wasn’t a woman wasn’t shameful or an insult to James Buchanan Barnes’ memory like his mother’s family had always made him believe. When Stiles’ sexuality came out, his mom, thinking his family would love for him, casually mentioned it to one of her cousins which had ignited the match that would later burn the bridge connecting him to them.

They shunned him, wanted nothing to do with him. Everyone, except his great-great-aunt Becca. She died long ago, but in her Will she left all of Bucky Barnes’ letters, the few the government hadn’t gotten their hands on, to him.

**_He would have love you for you._ **

**_He would have understood._ **

**_Love, Gran-gran._ **

Steve coming out, informing the entire the world that he was who he was, had always been this way and that the people who loved him and loves him the most had known this and accepted it.

His hand was lifted, and a kiss was gently pressed against his knuckles. “Come back.”

Stiles blinked pulling himself away from those memories, turning his head to look at Derek. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

A weak smile spread across his face. Damn, he really was one lucky son of an Angel (Yeah, his mom ain’t a ‘bitch’. Besides, his dad always called him a lucky ‘son of an Angel’ and the phrase always stuck).

“You ready to back to the hotel?”

Stiles sighed, eyes drifting to the barely visible diner where his ‘something’ was sitting right now. A part of him wanted to run over there, tell Steve Rogers that he was the great-grandson of his best friend, explain that Bucky had gotten a girl pregnant and when his great-grandma died, Gran-gran took Bucky’s daughter, Grace, in and raise her as her own.

But he didn’t, instead, he nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Derek waited a few moments before he started the car, pulling out the parking area and into the waiting traffic. Every so often, his hand would leave the steering wheel and fall on Stiles’ thigh, stroking and squeezing it in comfort. Stiles’ hand never left Derek’s leg, even as he fell asleep in the passenger side.

A year later, when the Winter Soldier made a mess of the world, leaving behind bodies and destructed propriety, Stiles watched with bated breath as the news reporter commented on Steve Roger’s defection from SHIELD and how America’s hero had gone against an entire government.

When, roughly a year after that, Steve Roger’s appeared on his and Derek’s doorstep in Washington, Stiles felt his chest expand and crumble into his stomach when the Captain said; “Bucky’s alive. You wanna come see him?”

Derek, thankfully, had been there, chest pressed against his back to ensure Stiles didn’t collapse right then and there. Derek had been by his side when Steve arranged a meeting at the Avenger’s Tower and held his hand and never let go when Stiles first laid eyes on his mom’s granddad.

Save for the eyes, Stiles could see parts of his mom in Bucky. It wasn’t definitive features, just _something_ about Bucky that reminded Stiles of his mom.

There was no hugging or touching, just casual conversation. Steve remained a respectable distance from them, offering them something to drink when they first sat down. Stiles could see the darkness within Bucky’s eyes, saw the tortured soul which lurked beneath. When Black Widow had leaked all of SHIELD’s secrets on the internet, Stiles had locked himself in his room, procuring everything and anything he could. So, he knew what his great – fuck this, he’s just gonna refer to Bucky as Grandpa- went through.

When Stiles introduced Derek as his husband, Bucky had smirked and Steve’s eyes had widened in surprise.

“Well, damn, kid.” Grandpa looked over at Steve. “See, good taste is genetic.”

It took a second to register and then, _Oh…_

Overall, the day was amazing, with Steve bravely revealing to Stiles that he’d drawn him the day they’d met, offering the sketch to Stiles with an almost shy smile, telling Stiles how it had been _this_ sketch that had led to Steve and Bucky making the connection about Stiles relation to Bucky. It randomly occurred to Stiles then that he was literally only a couple of years younger than his Grandpa, biologically at least.

Everything was going well, until Mr Stark made an unannounced appearance, eyes widened with excited intrigue as he pointed at Derek, putting him in the metaphorical spotlight.

“You. What are you? You’re not human.”

“Yes, he is.” Stiles shot back instantly.

“No, he isn’t, Baby Barnes. J.A.R.V.I.S did a bio scan - as per protocol, Capsicle, don’t get your tights in a twist – anyway, J.A.R.V.I.S did a scan and informed me that we had a non-human but non-threatening being in the Tower, so I ask again? What are you, Grease Lightening?”

Stiles twisted around, meeting Derek’s defensive green eyes, and, upon noticing the tick of his right jaw, Stiles knew the lovely meeting just took a turn for the worse.

“Oh, fuck.” He turned to his Grandpa. “Fuck, sorry for this…”

He looked at his husband. “Derek?”

Derek glared at Mr Stark.

Oh… this was gonna be fun…

(Famous Last Words)

*

“Fuck, kid, you’re gonna fit right in.” His Grandpa told him over Mr Stark’s loud plea to Derek to allow him to have a sit down.

Stiles grimaced. “You don’t know the half of it, Grandpa.”

“Grandpa?” “

Fuck, sorry—”

“No, it’s okay. I like it. Just add a "Bucky" when we in company, the Avenger's are little shits about the whole 'senior citizen' thing.”

*

His dad was not happy to be the last to know their meeting later that night.

**Author's Note:**

> So backstory: Once Steve got Bucky back and in recovery, they did research about Bucky's family to see if his sister's was still alive, saw he'd fathered a child and discovers Mieczysław Existence.
> 
> Then Steve can be like; hey i know that kid. And boom


End file.
